


Just Breathe

by Eien_Ni



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek, Derek actually makes conversation, Derek is calm, Feels, Hurt/Comfort, I hate thinking of tags, M/M, Panic Attack, Pre-Slash, Someone gets hurt, Stiles and Derek talk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-13
Updated: 2012-11-13
Packaged: 2017-11-18 14:43:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/562185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eien_Ni/pseuds/Eien_Ni
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He vaguely remembered telling the officer that he’d see him soon before numbly putting his phone away. He swayed on his feet, but he couldn’t get his body to move in order to halt his fall.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Breathe

**Author's Note:**

> I'm a bit late in posting this story, which I wrote for the Teen Wolf Fanfiction Contest. I wrote this in the eight hours right before the deadline.

It was a lazy Saturday afternoon, the sun shining through the trees surrounding the old Hale house. Stiles, Scott, Allison, and Lydia were visiting Derek and his pack. Peter was off doing who knew what, and the werewolf boys, plus Erica, were playing lacrosse, while Allison and Lydia were cheering them on. Boyd and Erica were actually doing relatively well for their first time playing, with both managing to score a few goals each.

The only member of the pack who wasn’t doing anything was Stiles, who was just sitting by the steps in the shade. The sun was hot, and he didn’t feel like getting a sunburn because those things hurt and he didn’t want to worry about aloe vera and peeling. That was just gross.

He entertained himself by reading over some papers he had photocopied from his dad’s office about a new case. He read carefully, not wanting to miss any little details that might prove to be of use as he read further. He was so engrossed in his reading that he failed to notice someone walk out of the house and stop on the porch.

“Don’t want to play lacrosse?”

Stiles nearly jumped five feet in the air, his head whipping around to catch a glimpse of Derek standing directly behind him.

“Geez, do you have to sneak up on me like that?” Stiles gasped out, a hand to his chest. “I don’t have super good hearing like you do.”

A grunt was Derek’s only reply as he sat on the ground, feet planted firmly on the ground and arms resting on his knees, a good three feet away. Stiles huffed, knowing that he wouldn’t get an actual apology, and looked back at his papers.

“You didn’t answer my question,” Derek stated.

“You didn’t apologize,” Stiles retorted, to which the werewolf just rolled his eyes. A beat of silence followed before he nodded towards the game. “I just don’t want to end up in a body cast or something.”

Derek’s gaze shifted just in time to see Isaac full-on tackle Scott, and the distinct sound of bone cracking ripped through the air. “Probably a good idea.”

Stiles hummed in agreement and watched carefully to make sure that his best friend was okay. Despite Scott’s ability to heal, Stiles still worried that there might be that one time when the healing process wouldn’t kick in.

“You could join them, you know. If you became a werewolf,” Derek added at the confused look on Stiles’ face.

Stiles tilted his head as he pondered that statement. “I’d actually be a werewolf now, if I’d taken Peter up on his offer to bite me.”

“He offered you the bite, and you said no? Why?” Derek’s tone was surprised, and he shifted a little to face Stiles.

He shrugged, waving a hand in the air. “I just don’t want to be all furry and emotionally constipated and smell like wet dog.” A low growl reached his ears, and Stiles didn’t have to turn to know that Derek’s eyes had changed to a blood red color.

“You going to threaten to rip my throat out with your teeth now? That seems to be a favorite of yours,” Stiles commented and calmly returned to reading. He was somewhat used to Derek’s threats by now and had learned to shrug them aside. He knew - no, he hoped that Derek would never act upon it. Not unless he wanted Scott all up in his face for daring to hurt Stiles.

“Why didn’t you take the bite?” Derek said instead.

“Whoa, wait a minute. Is the apocalypse happening?” Stiles stared at Derek, eyes wide. “Because I swear you’ve never made any attempts to keep a conversation going before. And you’ve never been interested in what I say or think, although it doesn’t really matter because I just-”

“Stiles.”

It was another growl, a warning that Stiles had better answer the question unless he wanted to further irritate Derek. “Right.” He clapped his hands together, staring at them while formulating a response. “Well, I guess the simple answer would be that I just don’t want to be a werewolf.”

“Better hearing and eyesight, more strength, increased speed. That’s what being a werewolf can do for you,” Derek said, eyes glancing over at his pack to be sure that they were behaving themselves.

Stiles snorted. “Sounds like that could be a commercial.” He cleared his throat, and imitated an announcer’s deep voice, “‘Does your life suck? Do people look down on you? That can all be changed with just one bite.’” He soon sobered, running a hand down his face. “I mean, yeah, it would be nice to be able to feel like I fit in more, but I don’t want it to happen like that.”

He could feel Derek’s gaze on him and knew that he was expected to clarify more. “Yeah, I’m not fast or strong, and I can’t see an ant crawling on the other side of the yard or hear hearts beating from where I am. I get into trouble a lot and sometimes need rescuing. But I do have my brain.”

“Your brain,” Derek said, seemingly unconvinced. “You turned down a chance to become a werewolf because you have your brain. Not all fights can be won by thinking.”

“And not all fights can be won by strength, either,” Stiles countered.

“True, but it doesn’t hurt to have both strength and brains.” A sideways glance was cast Stiles’ way. “But that’s not the only reason.”

“No.” The confession was quiet, barely above a whisper, but Derek still heard it. “My dad. I’m all he has left.”

A gentle breeze blew by, rustling the leaves on the trees and the grass, and Stiles closed his eyes and tilted his head back. “I already get into a lot of trouble, and it will only get worse if I become a werewolf. I’ll have the Argents after me, and Dad will get involved. I don’t want that. He has too much on his plate and worries about me enough already. He doesn’t need to do that anymore than he does now.”

A slow nod was Derek’s reply, as he was unsure of what to say now. The only family he had left was Peter, and he knew that his uncle would be perfectly fine if Derek were to disappear. They weren’t dependent on the other like Stiles and his dad were, which was a little odd. Derek and Peter were in a pack, and wasn’t the pack everything?

His inner musings were disrupted by a shrill shriek, and he quickly glanced over at the lacrosse game, noting that Allison and Lydia were tangled in a heap on the ground, having had to leap out of the way to avoid being squashed by Jackson. Derek stood to his feet, listening to the conversation going on.

“Everything okay?” Stiles questioned as he, too, looked over.

“Yeah, Boyd just rammed into Jackson.” Derek rubbed the back of his neck, making a mental note to reprimand Boyd about tackling people so hard, even if they were werewolves. Innocent people could still get hurt.

Stiles nodded and returned to his papers, effectively ending the conversation, and Derek wasn’t about to bring it up again. It was awkward, talking to others. He was used to being alone. Even with his pack, he only talked when necessary, and even then he spoke with as few words as possible.

He remained standing there for a moment longer, then turned and disappeared back inside the house.

-+-+-

A few hours later found Stiles still outside. By now, he’d put the case files away and was content to stand and watch the lacrosse game. Not that it was a game anymore. Erica had complained that the boys were taking it easy on her just because she was a girl, and Isaac had tackled her in reply. That had led to more roughhousing, and now they were all pushing and shoving and growling.

“Hey, Derek? You might want to get out here and control your pack!” Stiles yelled. “They’re becoming a bit too rambunctious, I think.” He cringed, hearing a yowl of pain from Scott who had just had his arm broken by Jackson.

No response came from the house, and Stiles grumbled to himself, “Stupid Alpha. Can’t trust him to be responsible and prevent his pack from tearing each other apart.” He raised his voice as he spoke the last ten words, and he could have sworn that he heard a growl from inside.

His phone rang then, and Stiles fished in his pocket and pulled it out. He didn’t recognize the number, but he answered it anyway. “Hello?”

Derek had been about to make a comeback when Stiles’ cell rang. Normally, he didn’t try to listen in on other people’s conversations, but even from the first word that the person on the other end of the line spoke, he could tell that it wasn’t good news. He shifted, muscles tensing as he listened and waited.

_“Stiles, this is Officer Perry. I met you a couple times at the station.”_

“Yeah, I remember,” Stiles said slowly, haltingly. “Why are you calling me? Is everything-” And then it hit him. “No, no, no. My dad. Not my dad. Is he- Oh, no, tell me he’s not dead!”

Scott and the others stopped roughhousing, turning to stare at Stiles. Allison covered her mouth with her hand, and Lydia grabbed her arm, horror painting both of their faces.

_“He’s not dead, but he is injured. He’s in surgery as we speak, but you need to get here as soon as you can.”_

“Okay.” Stiles listened to the rest of what the officer had to say, but he was in shock. He felt hollow, much like he had when he’d learned that his mother had passed away. He vaguely remembered telling the officer that he’d see him soon before numbly putting his phone away. He swayed on his feet, but he couldn’t get his body to move in order to halt his fall.

“Stiles!” Scott raced towards his friend’s side, but Derek was faster, reaching Stiles seconds before Scott.

“Easy, there,” Derek murmured, hands lightly gripping Stiles’s arms and keeping him upright. “It’s going to be okay.”

“My... My dad. I have to...” His voice trailed off, and he let out a strangled cry, hands coming up to clutch at his head.

“We’ll get you to the hospital, but you’re not driving. Not in this condition,” Derek stated firmly. He expected Stiles to argue, and he was relieved when the teen simply nodded mutely. He glanced about at the rest of the pack, who were standing around them in a circle, eyes wide. Lydia’s and Allison’s eyes were wet with tears, and Scott stepped forward.

“I’ll take him in his-”

“No,” Derek barked sharply. “I’ll take him. I can get him there faster if I drive. The rest of you can catch up later if you want.” No one dared to defy his order, and he gave a pleased grunt as he helped Stiles towards his Camaro. Opening the door, he eased Stiles inside and buckled him in, the teen still too shocked to be of much help.

Within a matter of fifteen seconds, Derek was behind the wheel, and the Camaro was racing down the road as fast as Derek dared to go. He kept his ears tuned to Stiles, listening to his rapid heartbeat and sharp intakes of breath.

“Stiles, you need to breathe,” Derek stated, his voice calm and assuring. “Breathe in and out slowly.”

“I can’t- My dad- He has to be okay,” Stiles gasped, squeezing his eyes shut and shaking his head.

“He will be. If he’s anything like you, and I’m sure he is, he’ll be just fine. You just need to concentrate on breathing before you hyperventilate.” Derek swerved onto the main road, narrowly missing oncoming traffic. Horns blared at him, but he ignored them and continued driving.

Stiles’ breathing was still too shallow and quick for Derek’s liking, and he grunted. “Stiles, if you don’t start taking deep breaths, I am going to rip your throat out. With my teeth,” he deadpanned.

A tiny smile crossed Stiles’ lips, and his fingers dug into his legs as he forced himself to think about breathing. In. Out. In. Out.

“That’s it,” Derek whispered under his breath, sparing quick glances between watching the road.

A shuddering breath left Stiles’ mouth, and he leaned back in his seat. He hated panic attacks, and if he wasn’t so worried about his dad, then he probably would have felt embarrassed about having an attack in front of Derek.

His chest tightened, and he inhaled sharply. His dad was injured and in surgery. Stiles didn’t know the extent of his wounds, or if his dad was even still alive. A choked sob escaped him as he struggled to remain in control, his right hand coming up to cover his face.

Light pressure on his left arm had him jerking in surprise, and he peered between his fingers. Derek’s hand was resting on his elbow, hardly touching him, and yet it was enough. Stiles’ gaze switched to Derek’s face, and he swore he saw Derek’s jaw twitch. Briefly, he wondered if this was how Derek had reacted upon hearing about the fire at his house.

Stiles breathed in, then out. A shaky smile appeared, and he ran his hand through his hair. “I’m okay,” he whispered.

“I know,” was the quiet reply. “I know.”

-+-+-

Derek slouched in his seat, peeking over the top of the magazine he was pretending to read. He was really watching Stiles pace back and forth, unable to sit still. When they’d arrived at the hospital and checked at the front desk, they’d learned that Sheriff Stilinski was still in surgery, but he was expected to be in recovery within the hour.

A quick look at the clock told Derek that over an hour had passed. He frowned, then got up in the guise of stretching his legs and wandered over to a help desk.

“Excuse me, but can you tell me anything about Sheriff Stilinski?” he asked the nurse.

“Are you family?” she replied.

“No, but-”

“Then I’m sorry, but I can’t tell you anything, Sir.” An apologetic smile was flashed his way, and he sighed before stepping back.

“Thanks.” Derek returned to his seat and began to flip through the magazine again.

“Any news?” Scott leaned over and asked, his brow furrowed in worry. He, Allison, and Lydia had arrived at the hospital fifteen minutes after they had, bringing Stiles’ Jeep with them.

Derek shook his head, and the younger werewolf sighed impatiently, settling back into the hard seat.

“Stiles?”

Everyone in the room turned, and Stiles nearly wilted in relief upon seeing Mrs. McCall standing there.

“Mrs. McCall! Do you know how my dad is?” Stiles rushed over, and she placed both hands on his shoulders.

“Stiles, your dad is in recovery right now. He’s doing well, but he’s still under the effects of the anesthesia. He will be for a bit longer,” she said hurriedly to ease his fears.

“How bad is it?” Derek asked, knowing that Stiles wanted to ask that but was too afraid of the answer.

“He took a bullet to his left shoulder, but luckily, it didn’t hit any vital spots,” Scott’s mom reported. “I expect that he’ll be out of the hospital within two days.”

Stiles blew out the breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding. “Thank you,” he said weakly.

Mrs. McCall smiled. “Would you like to go see him?”

Stiles nodded his head frantically. “Yes, please.”

“As I said before, he’s still sleeping, but it will do you both good if you’re there when he wakes up.”

Stiles began to walk off but stopped and turned back to Derek. “Thanks.”

Derek just shrugged, as if to say that it hadn’t disrupted his daily routine to make an emergency drive to the hospital. He watched as Stiles scurried along behind Mrs. McCall, eager to get to his dad. A few moments passed before he turned on his heel and walked away.

-+-+-

Stiles smiled and held his dad’s hand, watching him fall back to sleep. He felt better now that he’d talked to his dad and seen with his own eyes that he was okay. He expelled a shaky breath. He never wanted to go through this day again.

Truthfully, he was grateful that Derek had been there. The older male had maintained a calming presence, allowing Stiles to function instead of panic. In those moments, Stiles had felt a connection to Derek. He knew that Derek had gone through the same thing with his family, although only Peter had survived. Stiles felt lucky. He still had his dad, whom he was close to. Derek had no one.

“I guess it can’t hurt to be nicer to him,” he muttered to himself. He could feel the adrenaline seeping from his body and leaned back in the chair. The nurses would try to get him to go home, but he wasn’t leaving. They needed each other. “Don’t worry, Dad. I won’t leave you,” Stiles promised. “Even if that means I have to become a werewolf if I’m dying.” And Stiles knew that he would take the bite if it meant staying alive for his dad.

A shadow outside the window caught his eye and he looked up. He instantly knew that it was Derek checking on him.

He gave a small wave to assure him that he was fine, and the next second Derek was gone. His lips twitched into a smile, and he closed his eyes, feeling the pull of sleep. Tomorrow he’d go and thank Derek. For now, he just wanted to fall asleep to the sound of his dad breathing.


End file.
